


Something like that

by bonnie_wee_swordsman



Series: Imagine Claire and Jamie Prompts [7]
Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Headcanon, One Shot, Prequel, possibly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-09-01 09:54:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8619847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonnie_wee_swordsman/pseuds/bonnie_wee_swordsman
Summary: From the Tumblr prompt: "Imagine little Claire during the moment she finds out she'll never see her parents again"





	

**Author's Note:**

> Did a little research on how children of five (Claire’s age at the time) process loss, and found this excerpt fascinating: 
> 
> Between ages 5-9, a child’s understanding of death undergoes another change. This is often the age of “magical thinking”. They see death as coming from an external source … a bogeyman, or angel who comes to take people away. They regard it as some kind of enemy or assailant. Thus children may regard death as something to outwit, rationalizing “if I am good or do the right things I will be able to reverse this.”   
> http://randallroberts.com/11/Loss-from-a-Child-s-Perspective.html

The priest was so shocked that he dropped his bible. That was the only thing Claire noticed before she was turning and running, pushing between people to get away.

“Claire Beauchamp, don’t you take _one_ more—Come back _right this instant_!”

Claire didn’t care. She ran as fast as she could away from Grandmother Beauchamp and all the people in their black clothes around the carved white stone. They all _acted_ like they cared but they weren’t doing _anything_ about Mummy and Papa.

“May I go speak with her?” came a strange man’s voice far behind near Grandmother’s.

Claire ran faster, heading toward the grassy hill. She’d be able to see the way out better from up there.

But when she got to the top, her throat burning from running, all she could see were trees and stones in every direction. So many stones.

She put her back against the wall of the little rock house and slid to the ground, staring out.

There was a dead person under every stone in the cemetery; Maisie Brown said so….Mummy and Papa weren’t being put in the ground….There wasn’t anything to _put_ in the ground….so….so why was everyone back there _pretending_? Didn’t they _care_?

Claire didn’t want to cry. She was a big girl. But the drops were making the collar of her dress all wet, anyway.

“Hello, Claire.”

Claire started and wiped away the wetness from her face before looking up angrily.

It was the strange man, she could tell from his voice. He wasn’t as tall as Uncle Lamb, and he had a funny-looking face, but he was smiling kindly. “May I sit with you a while, my dear?”

“Don’t care,” Claire said, trying to sound as nasty as she could manage with her voice all wobbly from the blubbering.

“Well, if that’s the case, I shall indeed,” the strange man said brightly, sitting right on the wet grass next to her. Grown-ups didn’t usually like getting dirty.

“I was a friend of your father’s,” he said, after a long quiet. “I’m very sad that he is gone. He and your mother.”

Claire clenched her teeth together. She wouldn’t talk unless she had to. For so many days, she had had to talk, Grandmother poking her in the back to stand up straight and ‘ _be polite, Claire_.’ She’d said “thank you very much,” and “you’re very kind,” and all sorts of nonsense niceness…to all the people who crouched too close to her face to say, “You miss your parents terribly, don’t you little one?” or “It must be so hard for the poor thing,” as if she wasn’t even a person who could talk back.  Claire was done with talking to stupid people who didn’t know how to help. 

“May I ask you something, Claire?” the strange man asked. 

She looked away and shrugged, trying to seem as mean as possible.

“Will you tell me about your plan?”

That surprised her into speaking. “How did you know I’ve a plan?”

Now _he_  shrugged. “You ran away from the graveside service with such purpose, just now. And after hearing what you yelled out to the gathered crowd…”

_It came and TOOK them and no one cares about STOPPING it and getting them BACK!_

“I came up here to see the way out,” she said, slowly. 

“And then?” 

“I have to find it,” she repeated, feeling this was very important for him to understand. “‘Cause when I _find_ it, I can go out and…. try and go…If I find…” Claire made an angry sound in her throat, trying to find the words. “ _I can make it unhappen_.”

He was quiet for a moment. “You are _very_ brave, Claire.” The man was looking at her very hard. She couldn’t tell if he was feeling sad or fond, but he spoke very seriously. “Don’t _ever_ stop that: being brave.”

“But being brave didn’t stop them from getting—from—” Claire said, the blubbering coming back and making it hard to talk. “If I was _brave_ I could have stopped it from happening!” She choked and let her hair hide her.

She was glad, though, when she felt the man’s arm come gently around her shoulders. “No, no, sweetheart,” he said, very quietly. “Your parents’ accident was something beyond what anyone could control. It is right for you to miss them, but there’s nothing you or anyone can do or could have done. Do you understand?”

Claire didn’t say anything for a long time. She couldn’t find the right words for how she felt, the tight hurting squirming in her belly. “But….if they’re gone forever, then… _I’ll be lost_ …”

The man didn’t laugh or scoff as Grandmother had done. “It _will_ feel that way sometimes, true. But you will always have _you_ : brave Claire Beauchamp.”

She raised her head, now, tears making her eyes all blurry. “But I want _them_.”

The man nodded, and his eyes were definitely sad now. “I know, dear heart. I know.”

A bluebird suddenly landed on the grass in front of them. They both watched it peck about in the grass until it came up with a worm.

“Did you have a favorite game you liked to play with your Mummy, sweetheart?”

Claire thought for a moment. “We …play by the river. Sometimes we pretend to be ducks splashing in the water. She makes the funny duck noises, too.”

The man smiled. “How about your Papa? He used to sing you a special song at bedtime, didn’t he?”

Claire felt sad to think of it, but she started singing. The man knew the song too, and sang with her. By the end, Claire was smiling too.

“Remember those things: those _lovely_ things about your Mummy and Papa and the beautiful memories you have of them. They…they love you very much, sweet Claire.”

“I just want to go and try to find them….so I can see them one more time. But I can’t.” Claire felt the sadness come down around her head again. “Just like Grandmother said.”  

“Your Grandmother is right that they aren’t coming back.” The strange man stood up and looked out over the cemetery. When he spoke again, it was so quiet that Claire barely could hear him. “…but that isn’t to say you won’t see them again.”

“You mean _up in heaven_?” Grandmother had said that, too, _and_ the priest. Heaven had seemed too far away to make Claire feel any better, but if this man believed it too…

The man turned and reached out a hand to help her up. He had that fond, sad look in his eyes again.  

“ _Something like that_ , Madonna.”


End file.
